Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Rare and Precious



Scent is one of the most powerful identifiers that there is. It serves us as a way to establish personal identity, attract a mate, mark territory, communicate abstract concepts like 'fresh', 'medicinal', 'poison' etc. We are not the only animal that does this- consider the dogg who identifies with a combination of butt-sniffing, urine marking and rolling in dead things in order to create their personal doggy odor. (which is nice for doggs, not so nice for humans....)

As humans, we tend not to like to smell like humans. We mask our personal odors and communicate through a complex system of assigned scents. Peppermint = fresh, Citrus and Pine = clean, Vanilla = sweet, feminine, delicious, Spicy = males etc. (generalizations!) Doesn't matter if you are talking toothpaste or cleaning products, medicine or shampoo- we like to smell like other things.

Mother smells like roses. Not only the rose perfume, but the association with her are rose-based associations. Her name, the flowers Daddy would bring, the blue lamps that used to be in her bedroom that are now in mine. Daddy always smelt like a combination of certs (wintergreen) with faint undertones of beer, tobacco and coffee. Or like whatever he was cooking. One of my ex-boyfriends always smelt like Listerine, another- a surfer from long ago- smelt like blistex (ew). Grendel smells like tea. Max (the dogg) doesn't smell like a dogg, but like fresh grass and hay- he smells great! Ursula smells not-so-great.... but she is obsessed with the smell of coffee and will go to great lengths to 'acquire' coffee beans or try to steal sips from my mug (ew).

I don't know what my sisters smell like exactly, though if you blindfolded me and brought them into a room I bet I could tell they were there. I know Barbie has a favorite perfume - but the name of it escapes me right now- I'm sure Sue has a signature scent also. Melissa has a base of coffee and tobacco with overlying spicy nutmeg- but she changes her 'top note' often.

As for me, I don't like commercial perfumes at all- I pick up on the chemical odors, the alcohol base. I like oils, and it changes with time- but basically herbal clean odors. I love bergamont and eucalyptus, verbina, rosemary, sage, fresh ginger...my house smells like peppermint though that is mainly for the mice. When I lived on the island I used clarey sage, when I first moved here it was Irish heather, now I am obsessed with pink pepper- which smells lovely but is incredibly expensive and hard to acquire. I finally talked the down-to-earth lady into selling me a scant 1/8 oz yesterday... it smells sharp and spicy and clean all at once. The flowers of the pink pepper from Kenya ... a different type of smell altogether, exotic and familiar all at once, unforgettable.

Monday, March 30, 2009

One Fish



Two fish, Red fish, Blue fish. This was one of Daddy's potholders- an elaborate fishy oven mitt that he probably didn't use. A case of buying wacky kitchen stuff for Christmas or something- he loved to cook, loved gadgets and was happiest in his kitchen-cave.

I come from a family of good cooks. Everybody cooks...but me. I *can* cook- I used to love to shop and cook for Mum and Dad when I'd go visit (Daddy's kitchen was like a cooking wonderland...every size pot or pan or baking thing, all the spices in the world, millions of knives, spoons, spatulas and gadgets that did *something*... a big gas range, freezer, fridges (yes plural- upstairs/downstairs)- everything at hand.

I have lost all interest in cooking. I still make bread, and I'll cook when the monster is home or I have company, but for me it seems pointless. I'm just to busy, to tired, to in need of instant gratification. I live on ramen noodles and oatmeal and veggies...which sounds like it should make me skinny but it doesn't. That's ok, skinny is over rated, eating out way to expensive (and hey folks, this is Wallace. not option-city)... oh...I'm sounding cranky this morning.

I am cranky. I am tired today- sleepy, exhausted, crawl-into-bed tired. I am tired of oatmeal and ramen noodles. I suppose the down side of a really good weekend is the Monday Blues- usually I am so bouncy on Mondays... it will get better though, grace in action and all that. Meantime I'm going to blame it on bad nutrition, try to think about cooking or eating things that are quick, easy and healthy. And that don't make you buy a million ingredients or make a ton of... and yeah, I tried the frozen food but it is expensive and anti-great. Not to mention the tiny portions. So lets look for : cheap, easy, healthy, tasty and quantity- I like to eat *lots* when I eat so it's high volume/ low calories. I fail at portion control but I am an all-star member of the 'clean plate club'!

Sunday, March 29, 2009

224


Commitment.... am I ready for commitment? I think so~ (now, don't get your nickers in a twist, I'm not talking about the auction guy...) I'm talking about the auction! Last night I finally received my 'forever' number!!!! A sign of being part of the elite, recognized auction-goers! WOOHOO! No more remembering this number or that number (though it wasn't ever a real pain) but I am now...drumroll...224. I was going to take a picture of the number but I lost it (which is odd- I think I have every other number I've ever had...) Anyway, 224. 2+2+4=8, infinity/ money/ success. A good omen.
The image (above) is what we do at auctions (along with buy stuff, flirt with the auction guy and eat awesome homemade desserts- last night pineapple cake) It's not as much fun without Ms.Ball (the whole auction isn't as much fun without Ms.Ball)...but we sit and draw whatever is being auctioned off. (some one please explain why the plastic frog sold for $25.00 while a beautiful Art Deco desk sold for $30?) Last night because I got there a few minutes late I had to sit in the back, so I had to race to draw whatever they were holding up. I ended up the night with three double fold pages like this- excellent practice of drawing skills, helps me to learn the names of stuff, entertains those around me and is useful for reference later. And I like to think it keeps me from bidding on anything that doesn't move fast enough. (Actually, that is a bit of an exaggeration- I am quite conservative and rarely go over 5 dollars unless it is truly special)...
Last night's haul included the long desired sling blade for my yarden (along with a saw of dubious quality and a thing- a strange looking garden tool spiky thing on the end of a long handle- all one money) a beautiful big white Fireking bowl (no one else was bidding on it, which was odd. I love white fireking) a bamboo shade for Grendel's bedroom window (right now he has up a Mexican blanket, which is a bit thirdworld for me...) and these two sweet sweet little hardwood folding chairs that are whitewashed (all one money! my favorite phrase)...I *could* paint the chairs and sell them, but right now I am having fantasies of keeping them in the back of my car for impromptu chair-sitting. (This vision also includes painting outside, picnic baskets and a whole "luncheon on the grass" demeanor. Will this ever happen? Probably not, but it's nice to think about right now) ... anyhoo, all for next to nothing plus I got to have conversations with Kyle's mum, Donna Rivenbark (who I haven't seen forever! Turns out her pastor's adopted son is a freshman at .....SCAD!!!! visions of carpooling dance in my head) and the auction regulars. Doc even smiled at me (rare) Of course my auction guy was there- lots of attention and happy-goodness. We are getting together later today, unless there is a tornado....

Saturday, March 28, 2009

Violets



Hot and humid today- the sky is dark, heavy weather expected. I predict that there will be *lots* of flower-type posts coming up! My yarden is ready to burst into bloom- the azaleas and dogwoods, the phlox and alyssum, bright shamrocks and their wood sorrel kin.

Today though, I found the violets. Large and purple, all around the place in the hedge where Max has made his nest (of course). I have always loved violets- they dotted the lawn and meadows at Headacher, flourished in PopPop's back yard (and persisted even through Daddy's attempts with weed killer...though I don't think he was aiming for the violets, exactly). I would love for my yard to be carpeted with violets.... that is why I have a yard instead of a lawn. I'm not a fan of yard work, or fussing about with sprays and trimmers. I love the variety of the grasses and blooms, the healthy habitats for the frogs and lizards. Big golden orb spiders, the huge moths, tiny yellow butterflies and bees- I can do without mice and bugs-that-bite, but I am willing to endure them for the sake of the rest. (Almost time to get the guineas! Mice beware!)

The rain is rolling in- I can hear the thunder far off. It's time to turn off the computer and go do my errands- laundry detergent and hair clips, peppermint oil and a gift for my secret pal at work. Heavy spring rain, ceiling fans clicking away, doggs inside now and stretched out on the rug- I love the magic that is today.

Friday, March 27, 2009

All work, no play...



All work and no play makes for a very cranky king. Lately I have been super-busy with work (riding with a tight rein, pulling the classes back into order), school (lots of writing for my classes, plus grading the essays for my TA class), and home-life (mainly driving all over the south with the boy, going on adventures, pondering the upcoming potential date etc). Basically, I wake up early, work all day, come home and work or obsess about work in the evening. What I haven't done in over a week is have a night to play- sit and escape with videos, make things.
Last night I *should* of been good and dutiful and write my comparison of progressive vs. reconstructionest education, or do my textbook reviews or snuggle in with some lovely art appreciation essays.... but I was bad. bad. bad. bad- in a most excellent way.
It was raining, cold- I made tea and bread and actually *did* work until about 6 when the devil got aholt of me! I decided that I really needed a night off... so I put Angel on the video (watched 5 episodes!!!! Hedonistic!!!!) went through some of my newly acquired auction book-stuff, and settled in to make some art. I ended up with two things- the frog isn't finished, the other might be (not sure yet)....
The not-frog is a collage on masonite- I started with pages from one of the medical books showing a diagram of the brain (top left thing that is now blue/purple with the red spot) with labels on the parts that have to do with hormone release, hysteria, and sexuality (remember this book is from the 50's). The man at a desk and machine-like apparatus is from the same book- it is a breathing treatment room where the fumes of sulfuric acid and piped in as a lung treatment. (I'd rather be sick than smell sulfuric acid...think rotten eggs) I suppose they figured, 'hey, sulfuric acid clears out drain pipes, why not lungs?'.... I layered up with water colors, colored pencils and sepia- making the brain into a tentacled octopus/root thing. Modpodge, luminex, doveink and turquoise...I made it intuitively, with no real plan.
What the interpretation now is- well, the back text (with the brain) was on brain function and male/female sexuality and attraction. The combination with the breathing machine is two fold- the natural response of altered breathing when people are attracted to each other (want to know if someone likes you? watch their nostrils. They will unconsciously flare a bit...left over reaction from sniffing each others scent) and my alteration of breathing when I am stressed (I hold my breath or breathe heavily...I didn't realize it until my ever-observant students pointed it out) . Anyway, the left side- brain- is very organic, twisting, female. Receptive, overpowering, flowing. The right side- the man-in-the-box- is very structured, machinelike, logical. Sealed off. With the pumps and gaskets and gauges, it could also reference the machine-like qualities of men... when their 'gauges start going' they get 'pumped up', then 'blow a gasket' and..... (sorry about the slightly creepy euphemisms, but you get the idea!). The unconscious mind is a beautiful thing and I bet the original artist of these diagrams never thought that a breathing machine could be related to sex.
The frog... half of a chopstick box, painted over with luminex, collaged, repainted frog... additions of doveink, crushed rose hips, pink salt and magnetic gold sand. So there is a little bit of magic going on. The whole prince charming thing, which is *not* what I set out to do... I was thinking of all the peepers that have just started calling in the ditches, and our little green sticky frogs on the windows. But then it turned into prince charming, and then- oddly enough- when I was putting on the gold sand the auction-guy called. Of course, he has one of those low register southern voices so I couldn't hear him on the phone...sigh. dangit. But we are going to meet at the auction on Saturday and make plans for the date-thing. After he finished talking and I finished saying "What?" (good thing that he has a sense of humor!) I realized that I had been turning the frog into a prince-charming-charm. NOT intended, but the unconscious does as it pleases....

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Phone



Bane of my existence. I have a serious, unreasonable absolute unchanging *DISLIKE* of telephones. (sorry, phone- nothing personal- I don't want to hurt it's feelings...rather than hating the phone I should say I dislike talking on the phone and HATE answering phones) sigh.

Grendel is the opposite- he loves, loves, loves his new cell phone and is either talking or texting. Or just playing with it. bleah.

So, don't take it personally here folks- I dislike talking on the phone, but I *love* you none-the-less. I will talk to mum (weekly, on Sundays- I know she struggles to hear but it's a comfort-connection thing... we both spend allot of time saying 'what'? but that is actually kinda funny...) I will talk to Melissa and my sisters. Grendel knows better than to call me unless it is an emergency.

Why is this? At one point in my life I was a phone-connected teenager like everyone else. I know that part of it is that I really can't hear on the phone well. Some people are crystal-clear (Luckily Melissa and my sisters fall into that group), some people I can hear but can't understand the words (Like your average wrong number, the school call-arounds unless Norma is talking, or telemarketers. It just sounds like blahblahblahblahgrumbleblah) and some people I can't hear at all. (Like Grendel's grandma. Soft spoken southern accent- I'm lucky if I know someone is on the phone. Huh? What? UnHu? does not make for thrilling conversation on my part). So part of it is physical. (and yes, I've been to ear doctors, and no, they can't help me with aids or even implants. one said that my ears looked like they suffered from repeated exposure to very loud noise- like jet engines.... huh. Musta been the bagpipes.)

Secondly, I have phone-anxiety. I suppose this comes from a very-bad-time when I was married then newly separated, I had no money and there where LOTS of bills. Creditors calling day and night threatening to rip out my toenails. So I just stopped answering the phone as phone=nasty person yelling about something I can't do anything about. Those bills were paid long ago, and I am uber-responsible now, but the memory remains. Add in a dysfunctional relationship and yeah, phones=curse of satan.

Calling parents doesn't help. Never in my life have I had a productive phone call with a parent. If school calls they instantly know that little Johnny has been a holy terror and they don't want to talk to you, just beat Johnny. We don't have a phone on our wing, I can't hear what they are saying and I'd rather work at Walmart. This is what conferences are for, and email works well to.

Finally- (good god, I sound like I'm writing a 10th grade essay- sorry folks!) when people call me to beg for something (as it is obvious that art teachers have nothing in the world to do but sit on our butts and wait for people to ask us to make stuff for free... i needa poster/ banner/ diorama) I say yes because I don't understand what they are saying (and it might just be "hey King, do you want a million dollars?) and I just want to get off the phone.

I love email, I love to write. (obvious?) I love facebook. I love internet programs like Centra and Skype, because I can turn the speakers up REALLY LOUD and there is the bonus, bonus of scrolling text option. I like voice recognition software ok, but just because the mis-wordedness makes me laugh. "Do you want Squirrel Underpants?" (I still don't know what that was supposed to be.......)

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Chick


This little yellow chick has been around since 'Easter 1970', an important part of Mum's spring decorations like the Bunny family and marble eggs. Over the years it lost the tip of it's beak, but it is dear all the same.
The bowl is one of my favorite things- it never goes into the cupboard but is displayed always. I fill it with this and that or leave it empty (it has an interesting design on the bottom). Right now it is filled with dried daffodils and blue hydrangea from last summer... the chick isn't normally in there- it is on the top shelf of the hutch- but it needed a nest and I love the way it looks together.
I'm feeling the need for spring again this morning- we are heading back into another cold-rainy spell for the rest of the week. I'm dreaming of a warm sunny day off where I can play in the yard- I'm like a kid with their nose on the window. I want to rake and clip and walk in the fields- I want to mow my grass then sit on the porch with a cold beer. (Ok, so I musta been a guy in another life... that is so guy-like. but beer and mowing go together...) The rain is good though because it makes me not want to skip work, and when I'm home it keeps me in with my homework. Nature's way of keeping me responsible.....

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Strange Attractors



A strange attractor is one of the principles of Chaos science~ as defined by my textbook, "Chaotic systems are not truly random. Rather they process patterns that are extremely complex and unpredictable, but that stay within certain parameters. The discovery that chaos possesses deep structures of order is all the more remarkable because of the wide range of systems that demonstrate this behavior. They range from lynx fur returns to outbreaks of measles epidemics, from the rise and fall of the Nile river to eye movements of schizophrenics. To summarize, chaos theory informs us that order and chaos are not opposites. Rather they are mirror images one containing the other" (p.434 in Supervision and Instructional Leadership- a book not as boring as it sounds...)

Anyway, a strange attractor is basically a randomly occurring unusual circumstance that happens at the same time regardless. Or, in my case, a plastic cactus.

When we were at the auction Saturday, I kept getting out bid. Cool hand braided old rug? didn't win it. Most excellent tiny round table with four triangular chairs and glass top? (would of made splendid fortune-telling table) was distracted and missed it. Giant iron cauldron for the yard? Nope. ... and so on. I was joking that the only thing I would win the bid on was the plastic cactus. This became a running theme between Melissa and I, and the auction folks, and anyone else who happened by. As the day evolved and I actually did begin to win a few bids, I also became ABSOLUTELY DETERMINED that I was going to acquire that plastic cactus. I had to have it, just because. The day wore on down to the last of the last- I had to pay $2.00 (yes, someone bid against me! argh!) but the cactus was MINE!.... and now, for the strange attractor part.

Next day- after I posted my blog with auction list- Sister Sue emailed me.... she has been searching Texas high and low for a- guess what- a plastic cactus. You think that such a thing would be common in Texas, and not likely to be acquired at an estate auction in rural low-country North Carolina.... You would think that at any other time I would not become possessed by the plastic cactus, when there were equally odd things about (one-eyed sock monkey among others)... Chaos theory at work. Strange attractors and synchronicity. Physics in a cactus- sometimes the universe proves itself as having a sense of humor.

Monday, March 23, 2009

Early Spring



There are few things I love as much as driving, and few places as beautiful as the south in the springtime. Grendel is safely at school again, I am back home- a bit over 12 hours, which is not bad considering that we stopped a billion times, there was crawling construction by Florence (always) and I walked around Savannah a bit...

Traveling with Grendel is always fun- either he is sound asleep and therefore easy to get along with, or he is awake and goofy (traveling makes him goofy- makes me goofier)... today he was awake and we talked and sang along to Barley Juice- he made me tell him the story of Finnegan's Wake again- we had an ice cube war on I-95 (I admit to starting it by spitting an ice cube out and it smacked him squarely on the noggin)... I was *not* able to stop and explore anything because we were on a time schedule and I wore flip flops- but we shared pistachios and snowcaps, and he got an ice cream out of one of the rest-stop vending machines. (Amazing how people cluster around to watch the machine work it's magic...) He is not sure quite yet if he is going to UAT or going to stay in Savannah another year... it's his choice and I know he will find the place he needs to be. I trust him to grow up- not an easy thing, but a good thing.

Driving home it was warm, I happily continued to sing- I love to sing, don't do it well but I do it often! Windows down and the light- the light was just magical. Everything warm and safe and waiting to grow. Blueberry bushes with tiny pink flowers, the vineyards full of red vines, snowy clouds of Bartlet pear and peach trees... red bud in the woods, and wild tangles of Carolina creeper. The air smelled of flowers and hogs- in alteration- and freshly cut grass with the sharp scent of green onions. Dark still swamps, white sandy fields, tumble down houses and lines of trailers bright with plastic eggs and bunnies. I am falling in love with the south all over again, part of me is home here.

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Auction!



Yesterday Melissa and I went to an estate auction in Warsaw... we were there from 8:30 am until about 3:30 or so... house and contents, lots of lovely things.

What I acquired:

Mortars and pestles in iron, ceramic, glass, porcelain

Old medicine bottle (glass) "Our Trust" dog medicine.

milk glass apothecary bottles

mixing spatulas

a new pillow for max- it's pink and white and covered with rosebuds

boxes of books including chemistry notation (hand written) and books on poisons/ toxicology

minks

traps (for minks?)

big leather suitcase

leather doctors bag

homemade banana pudding, chocolate cake and rib-b-que (with extra pickles)

a broom made by a blind man (for grendel)

cigar box full of mysterious tiny glass pitchers with tiny glass spoons (?)

pink-and-green plain woven wool spreads

a sunburn

tincture of Squills

asked out on a date (I said yes! Why not, it's just a date....besides, it's one of the auction guys)

and a plastic cactus.

Saturday, March 21, 2009

Boundaries


Why I needed that steak~ This past week has been a rocky one. Brought Grendel back from school, so week of boys. Lost Jezebelle, launched the boy at the airport into his Arizona adventure. The anticipation of Melissa's visit and the 'auction extravaganza' of today. Excitement, happiness, joy, sorrow. Lot's going on- and I wasn't at school Wednesday and most of Thursday. (And when I was at school, I was in a meeting and not in classes).... so... this means that the kids have had a sub for 3 days. And when the King's away the kids will play (and act dumb and sneak off and do other assorted naughty things).
I love teaching. Love, love, love it. I *HATE* having to control people. hate it, hate it, hate it. Anarchist at heart, I just want everyone to be self responsible and do what they are supposed to without me having to be 'mean'. I keep trying, but it never quite works....so...boundaries.
Big chat with the classes yesterday, re-wrote the syllabus, set firm goals: if you do this (80% passing on pretest) you get *this* (ability to do a project instead of review) if you do this (90% passing midterm) you get *this* (a privilege set back). If you are late to class today, I will be at your previous class tomorrow when the bell rings and escort you to my class so that you will be on time. If my fat ass can make it across the school and up and down the stairs and to the bathroom in five minutes, so can you. Point taken. Large, clear fences.
Yesterday went well, and a tightening of structure can be a good thing. Rather like what I've learned with the electric fence experience- without the fence, the dogs had to be tied out. They were bound with limited movement and forever getting tangled. When they broke the tie, or ninja'ed their way free, they were off into the sunset, running wild, impossible to catch. It put them in danger and me in a foul mood. With the electric fence, they tested it at first. Max became scared for a bit, but then they discovered that as long as they stay in their boundaries, they have freedom. Freedom to run around, hide in bushes, sleep on the well cover, dig hugemongous holes, chase butterflies, do dogg stuff. They are safe and happy and free but protected. Someday the boundary lines will go away and they won't even notice because they will be dogg-responsible.
I had to learn this to. I am a boundary-breaker from way back, and I'm good at it. I'm not talking illegal things, but just normal rules, social expectations and the like. Tell me I *have* to do something and I run the other way. The more you tell me, the further I go, the more stubborn I get. I don't handle criticism well, it makes me hurt and angry, I fight then I flee- I'm a bad dogg.... but- I'm dogg-responsible. I learned that if I set my own boundaries, my own set of rules for myself and adhere to them, that I am not stressed and I am therefore free. I can run around, go to auctions, eat steak, have adventures, dig big muddy holes (well, not really), do what I want- as long as I'm responsible for myself and my actions. I'm dogg-responsible!

Friday, March 20, 2009

Happy Steak


mmmmmmm STEAKmmmmmm my once a year steak...and boy did I deserve it.
mmmmmm...happy steak.....

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Brooms



The other day- when I picked him up from SCAD- Grendel said "I need a broom". On a purely practical level, this means that his roommates were hassling him about his hair again (it's very long, he sheds) but on an archetypal level a broom is a symbol of transport, change, longing to clear away the old and sweep in the new. When I was going through all that heartbreak-breakup-drama this winter, all I wanted was a new broom. I didn't make the connection then- all I knew is that I longed for a broom, wanted a broom, made art about brooms, obsessed about brooms- I *needed* a broom. Grendel bought me this one for Christmas- sturdy, utilitarian, perfect. (and yes, those are dog scratches all over the door...just another artifact of life, someday I'll paint it, but right now they are reminders...)

Anyway, back to brooms. They are the threshold between worlds- you can jump them to get married or bar the devil from your door. They must never be bought or they will not be lucky, or yours- brooms must be given, found or stolen. They shouldn't be stored bristle down- the luck with drain out (and your bristles will get squashed and bent and do that curvy side-sweep thing). If you want to know the truth about something, question the person while sweeping with a broom made by a blind man. If you move, leave your broom behind- it has swept up the luck of a place and you should pass it on to the next occupant. Brooms are made to be used, and they become sullen if they are not. If a secret is told and you want it to remain a secret- sweep the room the secret was told in. Brooms collect secrets, hold them close until you shake them free. Keep your broom by the door and no ill will can enter that way- lay the broom across the threshold to keep death or the devil at bay. For posterity, sweep cinnamon towards your house- for generosity, sweep cinnamon away...

Superstitions, folktales, magic, belief, truths, nonsense- call this what you will. I believe in the truths about brooms therefore they work for me. Today Grendel is getting on that plane, going to Arizona, investigating a new life. He has admitted (in an early morning note part admission of nerves, part plea for waffles and bacon) that he is "worried about this whole ordeal". That's ok. If he chooses this school or not doesn't really matter to me- what does matter is that he is doing this *by himself*, making this decision *by himself*, going on this quest *by himself*. The first true adult decision of his life- he's finding his broom.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Goodbye


Belle died quietly in her sleep last night. Goodbye Belle, we loved you well.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Happy Birthday BS!



Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday B-SSSSSSSS, Happy Birthday to you! YAY!!!!!

It's Barbie's birthday, and BS stands for: big sister-

On this day it is *not* traditional to eat corned beef and cabbage, rather sweet and sour pork with frozen fruit salad (a whippy frozen concoction made with love, miracle whip, fruit cocktail, mini marshmellows and other mysterious things...), topped off with cake that looks like Irish Spring soap and/or creme de menthe parfaits. There should be snow- it seems that it always snowed on St. Patrick's day back in Johnstown- a late white fluff among the first sprigs of green. There should be green minty milkshakes at McDonalds, girl scout cookies and gold at the end of every rainbow.

I love my big sister. When I was little she was this beautiful girl with boyfriends and dates, the golden pinto car, short skirts (and this one memorable Easter hat with an upturned brim), long phone calls and visits to the Rigo's across the street. She went to high school but worked downtown at the stock exchange- which I visualized as a type of Mary-Tyler-Moore TV show situation. She can type faster than anyone I know and knew the mysterious language of shorthand.

As an adult, she is a beautiful woman with a heart of gold. Nostalgic but realistic, she touches the past and lives in the present. She cares about the good things and the small things- her Thomas, our family, animals, elders, people who are hurt and confused about the circumstances of their lives. Her house is a home- welcoming, beautiful, loving. God lives in her heart, her actions, her soul, and she is a blessing to my spirit.

Monday, March 16, 2009

Blue Moon


"I see the moon and the moon sees me

The moon sees someone I want to see

God bless the moon, and God bless me

God bless the one I want to see"


I used to sing that to Grendel every night when he was small- part of his bedtime ritual. I remember being sung that when I was small- for some reason it made me slightly sad, but loved all at the same time. I suppose a feeling of distance and longing and wishing to keep everyone that you love safe.


I painted this moon when Grendel was a baby in preschool- at Rainbow school. I worked there so we could have the best of both worlds, a full time income and I was with him. That is where I discovered that I like teaching... When the little ones would take their naps, I would read or paint. There was a bunch of old blocks that were going to be tossed out and replaced with plastic (safer edges, no concussions or splinters, and they could be disinfected). I claimed the old wooden blocks, began painting them- this was my favorite that I made for myself. I love it's shape, the way it balances, the color blue~ and when the moon is shining, I'll think of you!

Sunday, March 15, 2009

Marble eggs in a blue bowl



Marble, and onyx and calcite...some natural, some dyed, all heavy and satisfying in the hand. These were Mother's- they were out every Easter and some of them at other times of the year. -There has always been a thing for smooth rocks- most of these were collected on travels, various places along the way. My only addition is the tiny dark purple egg in this picture, which came from Boone on Grendel's 13th birthday trip.

I can't quite remember how Mum displayed these at Easter- I remember the beautiful white china bunny family, the white marble pedestal bowl with the tiny doves and spring flowers nestled in it...the beautiful baskets decorated and full of goodness. Other things. I do remember that the eggs were out, I loved to examine them, when Grendel was little he loved to play with them. One of the keystones to him liking rocks so much... he has his own collection of miniature eggs that are made from different types of stones- year 13 was his year of stones- now they are next to his dragons, magical eggs waiting to hatch.

My eggs rest in a big turquoise blue bowl in the middle of our kitchen table. I have always been attracted to the form of the egg, the possibilities of the shell as a surface for creation or a material for transformation. The egg itself supplies the magic binding of baking, or mixing certain types of paint. Hardboiled, they can be deviled, made into salad mild or sharp, or turned delightfully purple with pickled beets. Sunny side up, over easy or poached- golden on toast, churned and scrambled, teased into a souffle, folded into an omelet or the creamy wonders of quiche.

Wild bird eggs, tiny and blue, tucked away in a nest. Warm brown eggs from the chicken down the road- the huge ostrich egg Daddy sent me, carefully decorated Psyanka eggs, tiny spotted quail eggs from the Asian market and the magical 1000 year eggs that are dark green like avocados. (I like to look at them, but I haven't been brave enough to try one yet...) Comfort and sustainability, promise of spring time and the sun in the shell, blessings in a blue bowl.

Saturday, March 14, 2009

Possibilities of endless stuff....


are sometimes over whelming. Distracting. A corner of the studio- coyote head sculpture, the apothecary, journals (I have 36 sketchbooks and counting) baskets, my alchemical toys, brushes and markers and books-for-research- and basket of art in progress... the monster pillow...basket of bills, the fireking teacup with a lovely grey marble sphere in it... stuff. It's in this corner because Grendel came home last night, so everything is exiled from the big desk- that is his space.
House has suddenly morphed from quiet to chaos (in a good way) Pepper and Liz are here, there are stacks of empty pizza boxes, I think Fitz was here last night... Dirty laundry from college in the wash, suitcases of electronics, big portfolio of new art. Grendel has gotten really good- his biggest problem with art is confidence. I know it isn't 'his thing' but he has skills that will help him later....
I am thinking of starting a tumblr with pictures of art- Grendel, mine, the kids- we make lots of good stuff but I don't want to clutter up this blog with it- and tumblr can just be image based. I know flickr does the same thing... I'll figure it out.
Thing is, I am queen of distractions. It's midterm weekend for me: I have 3 short papers to write- less than 5 pages each, assignments for class, a graphics assignment, a rough draft of my paper on the history of medical illustration, an appointment with Dr. C in Wilmington, cooking to do for boy (requested Italian wedding soup with homemade bread, Mojo stirfry with coconut rice) grading my class at ECU- posts, quizzes and papers, grading my classes at school (they apparently had a bomb scare Friday- lovely for my sub, I'm sure)...plus the regular mommy chores.
Theory about me and procrastination is that I have a fear of boredom. I HATE being bored, so I am excellent at finding things to do. In talking about this with Dr.C , we ventured all the way back to when I was in grade school- I would put off starting projects because the anxiety of waiting is exciting- stress = endorphins/adrenalin which is natures way of making you high. So, if I put myself into a state of stress, I kick start these chemicals which then make me more anxious until I reach a 'tipping point'. Then I start working- I have tricked my body into operating at superspeed to accomplish whatever. (mental task- like school work, physical task - like power cleaning or creative task- like commissioned paintings). As a child, this kept me from finishing ahead of my classmates (and the resulting social stigma- I was one of those kids who would read the entire English book in the first week of school, then be bored), getting into trouble when finishing early (because I would be finished, then start doodling, daydreaming etc.) or just from being bored after completion. (I seem to always need a goal). As an adult this behavior pattern is retained- but physically I do not like it. I can still operate like this but I eat to much before hand (as a distraction) and am to exhausted afterwards. I also suspect that my quality of work would be better if I started earlier.... so let's get going!!!!

Friday, March 13, 2009

Home Safe!


On the Road


Overslept- off to get the boy @ SCAD. One of my students made me this grendel-pillow...what he would look like with short hair, no glasses (they had never met him, just imagined him from my grendel-stories)
Love this- it has a monster face on the back- will post that when we return- but right now, I'm off and running!
May good driving and happy adventures come our way today!

Thursday, March 12, 2009

My Chair..



My favorite chair in the multiverse- the universe is just not big enough for all of it's chair-goodness. This is where art is made, novels are read, dvd's are watched. Where I snuggle max, do homework, talk on the phone to mum.

Melissa gave me this chair back when she moved to the mountains- she has her own favorite chair 'the mommy throne' (the story of which is on her blog) but this is mine. Why?

It was freely given, first to her, then to me. It is leather. I love leather furniture, covet it greatly. Uncle Jack had a short dark leather couch under a ficus tree- I would lay on that couch and look out the big windows at Morro Rock, the sun setting over the sea. Mother had a big red leather recliner... I remember her in it, feet up, Ginger on her lap, "reading" with her eyes closed.

There is something about leather. The way it feels, the way it smells. Like horses and saddles and it doesn't show stains, wear through like cloth. I love it best when it is scratched and scuffed and worn soft- my chair has a multitude of dog scratches, paint on the arms. I do take care of it- clean it and wax it occasionally- but it's purpose is to be comfortable and useful not an untouched show piece.

The shape is perfect for me- it's rounded and cosy, not to wide- I am forever losing things in wide chairs, couches, but not tight. Big enough that I can turn sideways and put my legs over the arms if I want, or lounge out on the automan, or curl up into a smile. If I need to use the automan as a table, I can. Or max can sit on it and look at me, pretend he's a circus dog. Or one of the Monster's friends can use it while playing video games- or it can hold a tray of coffee and Mexican bakery.... or treasures from the auction.... or a multitude of other things.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Third Word

This is a picture of me by Neena. Except for the fact that she made my eyes blue, my teeth white (and there) and my hair all red and behaving, and time-machined me by 20 years- it's cute! Actually, it does remind me of this picture I have of me when I was 25, right after Grendel was born~

Anyhoo, our sketchbook assignment for this week is 'third word'- about how other people see us and we see ourselves. Everyone in class had to write down three words to describe everyone + themselves. Everyone collected their own words, found out what are the two most common perceptions, and talked about what they were surprised by, what they disagreed with. For Monday we have to illustrate the two most common words plus choose another word that describes us but that is not on the list.

My words for myself were: eccentric, creative, smart.

Other peoples words for me were: moody, crazy, spastic, crazy, confusing, red, curly, artist, creative, creative, funny, funny, musical, passive, deep, motherly, beautiful inside and out.

They explained that crazy was crazy in a good-fun-happy-hyper way, and that I think of the oddest things.

I was concerned by 'confusing'- when we discussed it, I discovered that my 'getting sidetracked' sometimes got confusing. And that I frequently misplace things like my keys, attendance and (yesterday) pizza. One of them said you are really organized but chaotic at the same time- this is true. Follows along with the 'spastic' part I suppose!

Musical was quite a shock as well- I can't play anything (though not for the lack of trying when I was younger) and I can't carry a tune. But they keyed in on that I love music, sing along happily anyway (we just watched Across the Universe and I gleefully sang along...) and make up songs all the time.

So this was interesting. And fair accurate. I am happy and hyper and think of odd things, get sidetracked....some call it crazy, I call it 'Expressive'. Oddly this is me in class, me around friends, me around Grendel. Otherwise I am reserved, quiet, hold back. huh.

Moody? Ya think?

Passive. Not sure how to take that- I am proactive in my life, but I hate controlling people and I hate conflict. So I let things slide and let karma work it out.

Deep. Like that. It's like smart.... means that I think.

Funny? see crazy, spastic and musical- I laugh a lot-

Motherly? It's my true nature, I think. I mother all these kids and my own... a role I fit into naturally. Which doesn't mean that I am always nice, but like a mother I sometimes snap and growl to get them into shape, but I love them none-the-less. And I mean it when I say that.

Beautiful inside and out? That made my day!

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Exhausted, muddy


covered in scratches, big old bruise, and a few cockle burrs. That's me. Max, however, feels just fine. He got to run around for 2 HOURS, adventure under the neighbors house, chase a cat, get chased by a wee little fluffy dog, lots of bacon snacks (master of the grab-n-dash) and go swimming. He finally went to play with our other neighbors aussie dog, and *that* dog was happily eating bacon-snacks out of my hand...someone got all jealous and came close. WHAM caught him.


So he is home safe- thank god- and Southern States has ordered me a wireless dog fence- expensive- but I am NOT doing this again. I don't want anyone hit by a car or worse, I don't want to be late to work because I've been running through the woods, and I just don't need this kind of stress. I'll eat Ramen for another month or two to make up for it. Or something. Damn it, I get all pissed off because every time I try to save money it seems to vanish in a puff of stuff.


Argh. But I'm thankful that max is ok- very thankful, and I'm thankful that I can afford the fence right now, and that it is the writing test so I didn't have to be at school right off. Things work out.


And during our adventure, I found an abandoned house, an abandoned boat, a yellow golf ball, a white golf ball, wild daffodils, blooming carolina creeper and the most magical fallen down tree ever. I also got enough exercise for the next few months...thanks, max.

MIA: Max in Action


Max is obviously feeling better as he made a dash for freedom and is outside somewhere running around in the dark. I *tried* finding him, got tangled up in something and ended up flat on my back in a muddy ditch. awesome. Every time the dogs run off, I fall down.
Finding a black dog in the dark is no fun- am waiting until it gets a bit lighter- hopefully he will come back on his own, be ok. I worry.
I am getting an electric fence. This sucks. Thank-god that it is 10th grade writing test day and I haven't a class until 10- though I am sure they are getting fed up with my dog-induced lateness...

Monday, March 9, 2009

My New Toy


Max is allergic to cats. Not just a little bit bothered by cats, but developed super ultra allergies that included: coughing and wheezing, constant sneezing when inside, icky sticky eyes, drippy nose. So he would try to chase Luna or play with Bear, but he would be a sneezing-barking-hacking mess of a Max. Off to the vet for all of the tests- and antibiotics, eye drops, cough medicine and benedryl. He could breathe but wasn't Max- he was asleep. And cranky. Even growled. (I don't think I have ever heard Max growl seriously before...not a growler). Angela took Luna back- her grandmother wanted luna so there is a good home- and Max improved a bit... back to the vet. Well, dogs are like humans and cat dander clings to everything, so vet says "DEEP CLEAN HOUSE" (in a voice of god voice.) It's a lovely weekend, and I felt like cleaning anyway, so not a problem.

I am merrily cleaning along, pull out the carpet cleaner and start in on my bedroom carpet. La, la, la windows open, singing along to Barley Juice, and there *might* of been a beer involved.... when I suddenly realize that the old carpet cleaner is just soaking everything, spreading it around and not sucking anything up. Bedroom carpet is now a wet nasty swamp that smells like dog. Ew. And the house already has floor issues- a soggy stinky carpet isn't going to help matters any.

Sigh. I suck it up, get out my ECU card (which has what little bit of 'emergency funds' I have on it...most of which has been absorbed by the vet) and head off to our local Small-mart. No dice. Have to go to Wilmington anyway, so I go to the hugemongous walmart and pick up this beauty- ON SALE! woohoo! And it's a full sized spinner-cleaner with an easy to use tank.... and under $100.00.....I happily check out with the luxury cleaner and a cart full of ramen-n-tuna (I actually like poor-people food...I'm addicted to ramen, especially the shrimp-n-lime)

House is clean now, and it feels great. Fresh air is improving it- this summer I am going to tackle the floors. Take a crowbar to the bathroom floor, rip me up some carpet. At this point, I don't really care what is under the carpet (unless it is mafia victims- ew. or buried treasure- yay!) but the carpet HAS GOT TO GO! I hate carpet, hate being a slave to it, have been cursed with having it in almost every house I've ever lived in, and must of been insane to buy a house with carpet+ doggs+ floor issues. Though I didn't know about floor issues at the time...

Sunday, March 8, 2009

Spring Forward

Granny Wrye's clock- Ansonia, Royal Bonn, 'La Nord' in a rare pink instead of the more common blue. These clocks were made from 1885-1910, so Granny must of acquired it either from family or later- Sadly it has seen better days. The right side was broken and glued long ago, and it hasn't worked as long as I remember- except the occasional middle-of-the-night-scare-you-to-death random gonging. If it was in perfect condition, the pink sells for about 2,500...but as it is- it is of sentimental value and therefore priceless.

(I love the internet! You can find out about *anything*!)

Now, on to time itself. Spring forward day. Time travel day. Time travel- thought impossible but we all do it- an hour here or there, add a day, lose a day. Easy. Clocks (and watches) and I are not pals. Watches never work on me, they get all squirrely and then just stop. Clocks never keep the right time- they skip ahead or lag behind despite new batteries, or being electric or even being computer. (My computer decided the other day to use 'military time' which takes me forever to figure out... so I just ignore it.) My car clock is never right either- though Grendel resets it constantly. (It happily just does what it wants to...) My school clocks drive everyone nuts- I have three. The wall clock, the phone clock and the computer clock- all different and all different from the 'official' school time.... even though the phone and computer are supposed to be automatically aligned. Various folks have tried to fix this, to no avail. (and it doesn't matter that I have switched- upgraded- computers.... time does as it pleases)

So, anyway, it bothers me not the slightest that the clock doesn't work. It's a pretty thing- overdone and fancy, something that I would never have chosen for myself, but I have grown to like it non-the-less. Broken but beautiful.

As for time itself, I have time problems. I hate being late, but -despite the clocks not working- I have a fair accurate natural time sense. I can tell myself to wake up at a certain time and I will, I am close to the correct time when someone asks me. I don't know if it is cicadian alignment, or that I pay attention to the light, or it could just be magic. It's ok. But day wise? I never know the date, work to remember which day of the week it is, and have to think about the month. I think in terms of seasons, the years blend together and it is a struggle to remember exactly what happened when. I never remember birthdays or anniversaries- don't take it personally, I just don't know what day it is. Or month. Or year. Or how old you are. Or- for that matter- how old I am. I mean, I know it when I have to think about it- (how old I am not the other stuff) but usually I just don't pay attention to it. I just live my life without counting every second-

Have you ever noticed that time speeds up or slows down at will? Somedays last forever- in a dull way- sometimes time is like a rubberband and you can get an amazing amount of work done in a few minutes. Then you turn around and it's suddenly time to go....

Saturday, March 7, 2009

Alchemical Play


I like to play with things, rearrange them, create and change them until the perfect balance is achieved. These are some of my current toys- wooden blocks, balls, doll house cabinet, birdhouses, open squares, an old gaming board, a lens from a broken projector. They are covered in paint and Joss paper, and I have begun to work on the bottom cube with images of alchemical transformation.
Only the windmill is attached, everything else comes apart for playing/ painting/ rearranging. In the box below the windmill there is a square mirror on the 'wall' and a tube with a secret scrolled letter.
I love the colors of the Joss paper and the paints- the basic shapes connecting. The dollhouse cabinet with it's little doors and drawers I envision as a miniature cabinet of curiosities. Other than that, I have no idea where this is headed art-wise, or that it even needs a direction beyond being an adults set of building blocks.
In class, we have been studying Frobel's Gifts and Occupations. The main idea was to gradually introduce items of growing complexity to young children, where upon they could build up knowledge and discover the 'unity of the world'. Beginning with soft woolen colored balls, then hard geometric shapes, interlocking shapes, pattern blocks and so on. Transformation of information, like to like- alchemical thinking. Everything is related, everything at once unique and similar. A graceful philosophy that I rather like- and I love the gifts/occupations aspect of it.
These are my Frobelian toys of the moment. They mean whatever I want them to, I can arrange them however I like- but they are still governed by the rules of nature. No matter how much I should like to stand the little yellow house on it's point, it's not going to happen without glue. The purple ball balances on the lens as long as it wants to- sometimes it gets 'tired' and rolls off.
Perhaps this is a metaphor for right now- our lives are made of so many 'gifts and occupations' that we can combine however we like. Sometimes we spend to much time and energy trying to force the yellow house onto it's point, when instead we should move it elsewhere, try it on it's side or just get some glue.

Friday, March 6, 2009

Gift

My doggs love me. Which is why they dig up the yard- they are looking for treasure so that they can give me gifts. Ursula proudly brought this in the other day- rusty, creepy it's an 'old timer' gut knife. She should be a CSI.

When I was little, Daddy had a horror of kids (girls!) touching knives- even to wash them. (Lawnmowers and exacto blades were included on that- big knives that they were) I don't think I really used a knife- other than a steak knife- until I left home. I am still hopeless with exacto blades, but other knives suit me fine. I carried my beloved Swiss Army knife for years until I started teaching- not allowed in school. However, no one has ever banned scissors- which are like two knives in one- so I have an absolute obsession with them. Scissors in the car, in my purse, in my MaggieHopey bag, in my desk...everywhere. But that is another story.

For all the no-knives-for-girls rules, it obviously didn't apply to boys. Daddy gave Grendel his first pocket knife long ago- taught him how to use it safely. Happy about that because it is something everyone should have/ know how to use. Grendel is master at exacto knives, pocket knives, throwing knives- which is fine *except* when he used his wall for target practice. Not cool. (In his defense I hung a dart board on the wall, but until he learned not to miss, the wall took quite a beating).

Somehow I ended up with all of the kitchen knives from Mino Drive. I now have knives for every possible occasion...but I only use my favorite, and then usually to open the dog food bag. I don't cook hardly at all anymore (Ramen Noodles is not cooking. I live off them) and most things I do cook don't require cutting up. I've gotten lazy in the kitchen....

Thursday, March 5, 2009

Rowdy Taters!


I forgot to charge the batteries *again* so here is another 'blast from the past', literally. We stopped at Rowdy Taters on the way home from NOLA last spring- it is somewhere around Pass Christian, Mississippi on the coastal highway. The concept of Rowdy Taters is good...but... well, let's just say that a lesson was learned about indulging in 'RT's' when on a long road trip.
Now, I love taters. Baked, mashed, fried, hashed, chipped- sweet, savory, peroiged, Sheppard's-pied, souped. Some of the best taters lately was the 'cheeseburger fries' consumed at a Denny's in Raleigh- just like a cheeseburger but sans bun. Extra pickles. (I wish they would just make pickle burgers.) Sweet potato curly fries at the Highland Games are wonderful- hot, crispy with butter, brown sugar, cinnamon and nutmeg. Sometimes a heap of McDonald's fries can be quite satisfying- if they are hot and have salt. No one likes cold, limp, greasy....
In my 'if I had a restaurant' fantasies (which strictly are. I have worked in restaurants and no-thank-you. I would stay strictly on the concept side of restaurant creation). anyway, I would have a PB&J that specializes in- PB&J. Anyway you want it- from the classic kid's version (crusts optional) to extra deluxe exotic versions. Choose your peanut butter (or almond butter, or nutrella or...) choose your spread (jams/ jellys/ preserves/ fruit butters/ fluff/ chocolate/marmite etc.) choose your bread (white/brown/grainy/flat/tortilla/crusts on or off/ toasted or not/ cut into squares or triangles or diagonals or just folded over) and your exotics if desired (bacon- laugh not, it's good- ramen noodles, bananas, dried apricots, coconut, ice cream, graham cracker crumbs, cool whip).... Melissa is the only person I know that hates peanut butter. I remember the first time- way back when- she ever dog sat for us I stocked the house with peanut butter based snacks, thinking that 'oh, everyone likes peanut butter!'..... well.....nope. There is always the maverick~

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Tangled

If you look at this just so, it looks like a tree nymph or a lady dancing- tangled up in moss, graceful and grey.
This is an older picture- I took it in Savannah this fall- it's curious and comforting, a suitable replacement for today.

For this is I-didn't-charge-the-camera-batteries-day, and my battery is fair well drained also. Not sure why, just know that I am tired and cold and wanting to sleep. Slightly irritable, wanting a rest- a change of scene. I haven't been away in months... I miss the driving.

Grendel comes home next week so I have a bit of a road trip (hooray! I *love* roadtrips better than most anything). It will do me good to drive and sing and photograph and adventure. Recharging with all good speed.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Maggie-Hopey


Beloved Maggie-Hopey messenger bag. Can't live without it- it has the capacity of the Titanic, comfy straps and has been around for years. I have had *lots* of different messenger bags- there was a time when it was quite the fad to give them away (pre-economy. now every one just gives out starlight mints. just one per person mind you, just one).
Anyway, back in the good-old-days, I had messenger bags from school (with the nifty embroidered school logo), from SCAD, from the 'Digital Circus' (who in the hell would go to a college called the 'digital circus' and expect to be taken seriously?) DickBlick (um...no thanks. Would rather not carry around a bag with the 'D' word written on it really big...) Sax (people read it wrong... almost as bad as carrying around the other bag...new theme- why do art supply companies sound like euphemisms? Dickblick, Sax and Bender. What a choice) Back on topic, I scorned the free bags- except for the Titan bag (which come to think of it...) but that one- for all it's embroidered glory- broke. The strap first, then the zipper. Strap I could replace, but zipper? nada.
Now, I like backpacks, have an awesome one that will be blogged about one day, but they are not lap-top friendly. I have the world's best pocketbook- seriously, even straight men compliment me on it. Shouldn't need another pocketbook for as long as I live- it's that universally cool and well made. But that is yet another post... back to the Maggie-Hopey bag.
Bought the MHB at Walmart, or maybe Target (but probably Walmart). Basic black. $12.00. Lots of pockets, sturdy zippers, decent strap. It's lasted years and years- everything fits into it. Gradebook/ sketchbook/ assorted other books, paperwork/ the laptop (when it was alive) the netbook, the camera, shopping, oranges, bottles of water, tea bags, at least 3 pairs of scissors, spare car keys (in hidden compartment with latch-hook) everything.
The design came about 2 years into owning it- which would be 3 years ago now- Pepper made a stencil for me (after much begging on my part) of Maggie and Hopey from Love and Rockets (favorite comic book).
Why Maggie-Hopey? Because their story is all about friendship, constant cheerfulness in the face of life, the ability to be unapologetic about their unconventuality. I'm not a Mexican rocket mechanic, or gay, or able to play gitaur, but I identify with being a best friend, being happy and silly and smart all at once, being independent, adventurous but still kinda awkward. laughing and hollering and living out loud.

Monday, March 2, 2009

Big Blue (and dirty!)

My big-blue comfy robe that Sister Sue sent me long ago. (Thank-you again! This is one of my treasures!) Absolutely perfect for mornings like this- it's cold and wet outside (but no snow, so no 2 hour delay. boo hiss. 2 hour delays are the BEST), anyway, cold and wet outside, dogs are inside and bear is shedding- just one look at her and *wham* you are covered in bear-hair. Not attractive when I plan on wearing (once again) my black skirt and leggings... I prefer them without bear-hair.

I didn't realize until I looked at the photo that bigblue needs a good washing. There is evidence of paw prints, possibly some coffee and most definitely some sepia. I always get sepia on my sleeves (it's like a soft brown drawing stick- lovely stuff) because I use it all the time, it gets everywhere and if I don't put it up the dogs get aholt of it. Bear (of course!) LOVES to 'draw' with sepia- thing is, when it gets damp (bloodhound slobber) it turns into a sticky dark brown paint that is impossible to clean up. And it finds its way onto bigblue.

Dirty or not, bigblue is instant comfort. I don't know what it is made of, but it's squashy and warm, soft and thick and feels like an instant hug. What makes it even 'more specialier' is that it is something I never would of bought for myself... I don't spend on treats like this. (Right now all my money is for vet bills and the monster- who finally has a cell phone- and I just paid off/closed my last credit card which I am very, very proud of doing!) But when I spend money on myself it is usually for books or art or food or dr c (who is very worth it).... not for creature comforts.

I am a creature of comfort. I like to be warm, have my chairs and my coffee, something yummy, dogs to cuddle, computer, good books and music and netflix and sepia. mmmmmmm....life is good.

Sunday, March 1, 2009

Apothecary

A store of ingredients to fix all ills, not only of body but of mind and soul. Related to the pharmacy ('pharmakon' = drug, Greek) but with an Alchemical bent. Mixture of ingredients based not only on their medical/scientific effects, but on the principles of sympathetic thought, transmutation and other obscure chains of reasoning.

Lovely stuff, long as you don't ingest it.

So, in my apothecary- which I keep more for curiosity and to satisfy my need to organize, label, collect- I have alum. Salt- sea salt, pink salt, black salt. Rattlesnake skin, deer teeth, black widow spiders. Peppers black, red, green- nutmeg and acacia, ginseng and ginger, rum, gold magnetic sand, egg shells and dirt dauber nests, Florida water, oil of rose, inks and assorted bottles that are still empty.

Feathers. Burnt matches. Orange peel. Jars of dirt from each state line, and a colonial era graveyard. Horse hair and juniper berries, holly still bright red, peach pits and marbles. Blue bottles, found pennies bitter copper and turning green. Lots of tiny empty bottles. Pebbles from every place I've ever lived. Sea glass, shells, bricks washed round. Wheat ears, cotton bolls, long dried okra pods, brilliant yellow sea whips. Bones and stones and curious things, that's what I am made of.